


Good With His Hands

by MaxWrite



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Prostitution (sort of), Semi-Public Sex, Tradesman Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nyota finds herself a new mechanic. And he's very good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good With His Hands

**Author's Note:**

> [This prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink_meme/11451.html?thread=11848379#t11848379): _Scotty is working on Nyota's car/hovercraft/whatever and is getting all dirty and sweaty. Nyota is turned on. Bonus: She encourages him to take off his shirt while he's working._

He took his cap off, wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his red coveralls, smearing a smudge of grease across his temple, then he plunked the cap back on his head, all the while with a look of annoyed concentration on his face as he surveyed the hovercraft floating quietly above the ground in his shop. The garage was hot and humid and filled with blue-skinned Azurian employees milling about in the background. Mr. Scott was the only human and was apparently the owner of the place. Nyota wondered how he had come to be here on this planet. She almost opened her mouth to ask, but then got distracted when he bent over to have a closer look at her engine.

Damn, it was hot. She tugged at the neckline of her dress, just at the top curve of her right breast, and discreetly wiped at the moisture forming down in the valley of her cleavage while glancing around to check that no one noticed. The coast was perfectly clear, all the other workers going about their business in their red coveralls, working on various vehicles. Some vehicles sat on the dingy, gray, concrete floor, while others were perched atop platforms that hoisted them up so wheels could be changed. Sparks flew from under the hood of one vehicle where an Azurian worker was hunched, grinding away at something with a loud piece of hand-held machinery. Across the room another hovercraft roared angrily, sounding like it was on its last legs, bluish smoke billowing from its back end. And beneath several layers of shop noise – the revving tools and engines, the popping sparks and clatter of metal on metal or concrete – Nyota could just make out the din of chatter in Azurian, the accent clearly northern. No one paid her any mind whatsoever. No shock there; Azurians seemed to have no interest in humans as mates. Her eyes went right back to Mr. Scott's cute little ass in those red coveralls and she wondered if he was alone here or if he lived with someone or was seeing another non-Azurian living on the planet.

"Huh," he said as he put the big wrench in his hand to work twisting at something underneath the hood. His ass wiggled from side to side as he did this. Nyota completely lost her train of thought. "Whoever was under here before me really fouled things up, I can tell you that," he called to her as he worked. Even through the shop noise, his Scottish accent was evident, untarnished by what had surely been years here on Azuria. Aberdonian? Glaswegian? It seemed to be a combination of both, Nyota noted.

"Thank your lucky stars you made your emergency landing here near the shop," he said, "otherwise you might've made quite a different kind of landing just a few miles away. The uncontrolled, fiery crash kind, if y'know what I mean."

"Mm," she hummed, nodding even though he couldn't see her. He straightened back up again and scratched at the back of his neck, his brow furrowed, his mouth a slightly slanted line with cute little turned-down corners. His thick fingers slipped beneath his collar to hook onto his shoulder and massage at what were surely tight, overworked muscles.

"You can fix it, right?" she asked.

"'Course I can fix it," he said without missing a beat and with a hint of annoyance in his voice as though her question was utterly ridiculous. He finally glanced at her with his disgruntled gaze, the first real look he'd given her since she'd arrived. He'd been all business from the start, demanding she state her Purpose without so much as looking at her, even as she'd spoken to him. He'd been all furrowed brow and grumpy disposition, cutting her off mid-sentence, his brain clearly several steps ahead as she'd described the issue she'd been having. And then he'd gone straight to work, treating the craft with more warmth than he had her.

She couldn't lie, his focus and knowledge and confidence and apparent disinterest in anything that wasn't a machine had intrigued her. Not to mention the fact that he was pale-skinned and dark-haired with eyes like steel and with what looked like hints of rust around the pupils, not that he'd let her get a terribly good look at them before now. He wasn't the biggest guy she'd ever seen, but he was strong with big hands that could wield large pieces of machinery like they were extensions of his own body. The grit beneath his nails didn't even bother her; it spoke of work, of dedication, of days spent in this hot, sweaty environment bending metal to his will, making big, angry vehicles purr under his touch like metallic kittens.

God _damn_ , it was hot.

Now he finally looked at her, one eyebrow slightly arched, and he was about to glance away again but ended up doing a double take. His confidence and put-upon demeanor dropped away like dead weight, his jaw going slack and his hard glare softening. His eyes traveled down her body, their descent delayed slightly at her chest and then again at her hips and then once more at her legs. They made their way back up again to lock with her eyes.

Nyota supposed she was quite a sight in the gunmetal gray dress suit that ended well above her knees and hugged every curve she had. The cleanly stitched lines of the garment ran down her body and curved inward at her waist, only to curve outward again as they reached her hips, accentuating her shape. She fussed with her ponytail as inconspicuously as possible, glancing away from him for a second, as though she wasn't checking him out and didn't care that he was checking her out.

"Well, good," she said haughtily, flicking her ponytail out behind her. "I've got an important meeting on the other side of the planet and it'll look incredibly unprofessional if I'm late."

"Uh … right." He seemed to find his wits again and went back to examining the craft. Her eye went back to him, the way his coveralls opened up at the collar to reveal a plain, white t-shirt beneath, just a hint of dark chest hair peeking out over the tee's crew neck. "Shouldn't take but a moment," he said as he stepped away, around to the opposite side of the craft, hands in his pockets. He looked down and seemed to be kicking at something with his feet, and when he came back around, Nyota saw that it was a small, rectangular platform, metal, peeling blue paint, as dingy as anything else in the shop. He situated it next to the craft and then plunked himself down on it, at which point an eerie blue glow emanated from it as it levitated off the ground, lifting his body a few inches up.

He lay back and pushed a button on the side of the platform. It floated him backwards until his upper half disappeared underneath the craft. He raised one knee, the other leg remaining mostly straight, his legs essentially spread before her like some kind of filthy invitation. Her mind wandered, turned to thoughts of stepping toward him, slipping her foot out of her shoe and caressing his calf with her toe, moving up along the inside of his leg, up, up, up …

Just as her eye landed on his crotch, he shifted and lowered his raised knee, also lowering the fabric so it draped nicely over his … parts, a very obvious lump of manhood becoming clearly visible. Nyota rubbed at her sweaty collar bone and shifted her weight around, trying to unstick her sweaty thighs from one another, and she fanned her face with a hand. She pictured her bare toes massaging his bulge as he lay there before her, rubbing in a slow, circular motion, him watching that, then looking up at her with his bottom lip between his teeth, his gaze hot, his legs spreading even more as he sat up a bit and pressed against the ball of her foot. She took a deep breath of the hot, moist air and shifted again, feeling wetness between her legs beneath her dress. She probably should have worn underwear.

When he came back out again, his skin was even more moist than before, his throat covered in a sheen of sweat. He swallowed and she watched his Adam's apple move against his slick, pale skin. He popped back up onto his feet and stepped closer than he had since she'd arrived. He gave her a nod. "Try it now," he said.

She retrieved her key from her purse, pointed the little remote at the craft and pressed a button. The engine revved and the craft started up as though nothing had ever been wrong with it. She smiled at him.

"I'm impressed," she murmured, shutting it off again and putting the key away. "You're very good."

This earned her an actual smile from him, the right corner of his mouth pulling up into a sweet, lopsided and surprisingly sheepish grin. He glanced down and shrugged. "It's nothing. Just doing my job." He met her eyes again, and though the sweet, shyness was still there, there was something else in his steely-blue gaze now, something hot and dark that made her arch her back and stick out her chest a little. His eyes traveled down her neck to the deep V of her neckline, then back up to her face. She felt her nipples prickle and harden, pressing against the stiff fabric of her dress.

"Sorry for the heat," he said, apparently having taken note of how wet the skin of her cleavage was.

"Don't know how you stand it all day with all those layers on." She let her own eyes darted down his body, lingering on his chest. "Don't you ever just wanna peel your clothes off?" She met his eyes again and found him smirking.

"Sometimes. When it gets really bad. Like now, for example. Bloody scorching in here."

"I'll say. You could probably take your shirt off right now. I doubt anyone would care."

He chuckled. "No, they probably wouldn't mind," he said, jerking his head at the others. "But I like to maintain a certain level of professionalism around the workplace. Set a good example, you know. Besides, I'm not terribly interested in having any of these guys shirtless around my shop. Not that the heat bothers 'em much." He paused and just stared into her eyes for a moment, then down to her chest once again before snapping out of it. "Er, sorry. I'm keeping you, aren't I?"

"It's okay."

"No, no, we're done here." He stepped away to slam the hood of her craft shut and gave it an affectionate pat. "Good as new."

"How much do I owe you?"

He jerked his head toward the back of the shop. "My office."

It was small and cluttered and only slightly less dusty and smokey than the rest of the shop, with a desk that was hidden beneath tech journals, PADDs, a computer, a small lamp and a coffee mug. There was a small fridge in one corner and a closet in another. It was cooler in here, but not by much. She stopped before his desk and quickly took note of the fact that there didn't seem to be any photos on it or anywhere in the room. He wasn't wearing a ring either. She then glanced back at him. He was already watching her as he moved away from the door and approached her. The door slid shut, cutting off most of the shop noise.

She put her purse down on the desk, turned toward him and perched on the desk's edge. He came and stood before her.

"How much," she said again, this time more slowly and softly as she slipped her right foot out of its shoe and began tracing a line up the inside of one of his legs, "do I owe you?"

His eyes went down to watch and then landed right between her legs as her thighs slowly parted. She paused to pull her dress up a little, exposing more of herself, and she knew her neatly trimmed cunt must be completely visible to him now. She continued tracing up to his inner thigh. He licked his lips and they sat just slightly parted as he surveyed her.

She glanced down at his crotch for a moment as her toes arrived there and brushed up over his bulge. There was a very hard ridge waiting for her there and she caressed over it again and again. He cupped the top of her foot with his large hand to hold it steady and moved his hips from side to side instead, rubbing against the ball of her foot. He met her gaze as he did this. She gave him a little smirk, which he returned.

"I have a confession to make," she said. "I didn't come in here to settle my bill."

"You don't say."

She brought her hands up to her neckline and pulled it open until each of her nipples peeked out. She pulled the dress down off her shoulders just enough to keep her breasts exposed and then she leaned back on her hands and pushed her chest out, her nipples almost painfully hard now as his blue gaze graced them.

He moved her foot away, pushing her legs further apart, and stepped right up between them. He took her by her waist, pulled her against himself with a forcefulness that made her gasp and took her mouth with his. The heat from his body engulfed her and he smelled of sweat and grease and something distinctly male. Her nipples brushed against his clothing, sending shock waves of pleasure through her body. She gripped his hips with her thighs as she raised a hand to rip off his cap and then toss it across the room. She then grasped the open folds of his coveralls and ripped them open all the way down to his waist, not caring what kind of damage she was doing, and neither did he, apparently. He hastily pulled his arms from the sleeves and then cupped her face, holding her head still to deepen the kiss, turning it hard and wet and hungry and almost too rough. Her breathing quickened and yet she felt she could barely breathe at all with him completely filling her senses. Her hands explored almost frantically up underneath his shirt, feeling his hot, damp skin like they craved him.

"Now, about that shirt …" she whispered against his mouth.

"Persistent thing, you are," he said, pulling his face back and eying her fondly. "Alright, then. Customer's always right, I suppose." He took a step back and pulled off his t-shirt. She finally noticed the tattoos on his left forearm, four little stars all in a row, and there was another tattoo on his right arm, on the side just next to his shoulder; a kind of stylized sun with an Azurian symbol at its center. He wore a thin chain around his neck too, with a little pendent hanging from it, another Azurian symbol.

"So, there I am, then," he said, chucking the shirt over his shoulder. "Pudge and all."

She reached for him with both hands like an impatient, grabby child. He went into her arms again and her hands went straight to his waist, pulling him to her. Her hands moved up onto his chest and his arms, felt his biceps twitch in her grip, then down to the fastenings of his jeans where they tugged impatiently.

She felt his rough hands on her breasts, felt every callous against her sensitive skin, the pads of his thumbs rubbing at her nipples. She squirmed, the sensation sending pleasure straight down to her crotch. She got his jeans open and thrust a hand down inside his underwear. She wasn't disappointed with what she found. His thick, firm length in her hand made her shudder, made her squirm with anticipation.

"What do the stars mean?" she asked as she fondled him.

He shrugged sheepishly. "It's personal."

"Oh. Too personal to share with the person you let touch your dick?"

He grinned, his pretty eyes twinkling mischievously. "Can't give away all my secrets on the first date, now can I?"

He reached into his clothes and took his cock from her. She removed her hand and then watched him pull himself out and slowly stroke himself. He angled his cock toward her, the head slipping between her wet lips and grazing her clit. He did it again, rubbing over her most sensitive area over and over, watching her shudder, watching her hips jerk and her thigh muscles twitch. She automatically spread open even more for him and when he began to push inside, she dropped her head back and groaned. He was almost too much to take, but her body accepted him willingly, as though it had been waiting for him. She clung to his arms and he held onto her as he began to move.

The first thrust made her yelp, but he didn't let up, didn't seem at all bothered that someone might hear her. He continued thrusting with the same intensity, forcing more hard cries out of her, and began to move faster as her body adjusted.

He pulled out abruptly, gave her hip a swat with his hand and said, "Turn 'round for me," his voice low and rough. She slipped off the desk, put her right foot back in its shoe, stepped toward him and kissed him like she owned him, her hand going to the back of his neck and holding him steady as she pushed her tongue into his mouth, her other hand going to his prick, feeling her own wetness there, then moving up through the wiry curls to the bit of tummy above. He let her do this, let her handle him like a piece of property. She felt his hands on her, caressing her waist and her back and even gripping her arm, but they didn't try to guide her. He could give up control, she thought. Nice.

She broke the kiss and did as he'd asked, turning her back to him. She leaned forward, braced herself on the desk and widened her stance as she glanced back over her shoulder at him and watched him appreciating this new view of her. She felt his hands on her hips and then his cock nudging at her. She arched her back and wiggled around a little, helping him get back inside, and sighed as he began to slide in again.

"Harder," she ordered, reaching back and laying a hand on one of his, pressing his fingertips into her flesh, letting him know he couldn't be too rough. He took the hint and gripped her hard enough to bruise as he pushed into her hard and fast. She felt him lean over her back, felt his heat on her skin, felt him bite down on her shoulder as one of his hands made its way to her chest to squeeze a breast and pinch a nipple. He was shaking her with his thrusts, nudging the desk back little by little, its legs bumping and squeaking against the floor. She was certain that if anyone passed by his office, they'd hear everything.

His thrusts slowed and one of his arms swiped across the desk's surface, sending multiple items crashing to the floor. He withdrew and pulled her around to face him again so he could kiss her and nudge her up and back onto the desk. She lay on her back on the hard surface, him hovering above her. He broke the kiss to unceremoniously hoist one of her ankles up onto his shoulder and then he drove his cock down into her, making her scream. He fucked into her hard, forcing more noises out of her, and she delivered with abandon, her breasts jiggling as he shook her body.

She felt fingers pinching her nipples and her muscles clenched convulsively around his girth with every pinch. She slipped a hand down between their bodies to rub at her slippery wet clit, the other reaching out to touch him, nails clawing at his back, slipping down into his jeans to squeeze his ass and feel the muscles there tense as he fucked her.

It didn't take her long to come. She shuddered and then her muscles were fluttering around his girth. She didn't care what she sounded or looked like, she didn't care who might hear, she might not even care if someone walked in just then. She was exposed and wild and juicy wet all over this stranger's cock and she loved it.

He came just as she was coming down and she regained her faculties just in time to watch him come undone. He shut his eyes and a pained expression crossed his face as his cock jerked inside her, twitching against her walls and spilling into her. He finally released her leg and lowered his body to hers as he grunted out the last of his climax in her ear, his deep voice hard and rough, his breath as hot as the surrounding air against her moist skin. He finally settled on top of her, panting as hard.

"Alright there, Miss?" he murmured. Fuck, that accent …

"So alright, you have no idea," she breathed, her arms going around him, her hands caressing his sweaty back. "This is quite the little operation you've got here, Mr. Scott."

"Montgomery," he corrected her, raising his face to gaze down at her.

"Montgomery," she repeated. "That's a beautiful name."

He grinned his lopsided, lazy smile. "What about you?"

"Nyota," she said. "Pleased to meet you."

"You as well, Miss Nyota."

They finally disengaged, sat up and straightened themselves out.

"How much?" she repeated. Montgomery paused as his fingers felt along the fastenings of his coveralls trying to determine how bad the damage was. He cocked his head as he looked at her. She grinned. "You were expecting me to skip out on the bill."

"Well, I just assumed that … I mean …"

"You normally settle bills this way?"

"No. No, ma'am. Hardly ever." He grinned and winked at her, then shrugged sheepishly. "But I just thought that since … you've so kind and all …"

She stepped toward him, slid her hands up onto his shoulders and said, "I don't work like that." She reached over to the desk and picked up her purse, from inside which she retrieved a shiny black card. She held it up. "You take credits, of course."

He reached toward his desk as well, retrieved a PADD and began tapping at its screen. When he was done, he showed the screen to her.

"Fair?" he asked.

She frowned. "More than fair. Wish I could take you back to earth with me."

He chuckled, then held out his hand for her card. "For my fair prices?" His eyes twinkled as they met hers. She smiled and handed her card over.

"Well, that too," she said. "Oh, you know you can add the price of your coveralls to my bill. I did sort of destroy them, didn't I?"

He shook his head as he slipped her card into a slot on the side of the PADD. "Nah. No trouble. These things get damaged everyday. Nobody'll notice. Besides, I need proof for when I brag to all my mates about the mysterious, gorgeous woman who came in here and ravaged me." He handed her card back and set the PADD down.

"Fair enough," she laughed. She retrieved yet another card from her purse, this one white, along with something else that she discreetly palmed. She handed him the white card which had her information on it in glossy, black, embossed letters. "I'm in town for a few more nights. I'm staying at the Kobayashi."

His eyebrows went up. "The hotel?"

"Mm-hm. Perhaps we could arrange to run into each other again."

"Oh, I don't know about the Kobi. They're liable to take one look at me and chuck me right out."

"I'm sure you clean up quite nicely." She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek and whispered, "Call me when you get off work." And then she reached around and slipped the palmed item into his back pocket, giving his ass a firm squeeze before pulling away, turning and sauntering toward the door. The door slid open and a number of blue faces looked quickly away from her, chatter started up again, machinery whirred back to life. She smirked, then twisted around to bid him a final farewell and found him examining the shiny golden coin she'd slipped into his pocket. He glanced up at her.

"This is quite a valuable coin," he said. "I mean, if this is meant to be a tip, it's one hell of a tip."

"Sorry," she said coyly. "It's the only Azurian cash I have on me."

He shook his head. "I can't take this."

"Yes, you can." And with a wink and a mysterious smile, she slipped out of the office.

END


End file.
